


I'll Be Dead Before The Day Is Done

by Soul4Sale



Category: South Park
Genre: Drug Use, First Menstruation, Friendship, Gen, Trans!Firkle, masturbation mention, unbeta’d
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9873431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul4Sale/pseuds/Soul4Sale
Summary: Firkle doesn't know what to do when his first period started. He was certainly not going to Pete or Michael about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was supposed to be done in October for a Weekly Writing Prompt challenge from Fanfiction-Friends, but I never got around to finishing it. The prompt was Phobias, and I chose menophobia, the fear of menstruation. Trans!Firkle, anyone?

Heart hammering in his chest, Firkle gripped it like he thought that might hold it inside his ribcage even better. Stomach turned and twisting, he was sure he was going to vomit, the sheer sight of what he’d just seen being the most gut-wrenching, terrifying thing he had ever experienced. Just thinking about it had his entire torso clenching, his eyes prickling with tears. It was no question where he was going when he suddenly ran out of class, and completely out of the school. He needed to see Henrietta, even if that meant running to the high school.

Bursting through the doors, the feral look in his eyes kept the SRO from approaching him. Stalking towards the girls’ bathroom to meet his friend, he shot her a text, knowing she’d be there if she wasn’t in class, anyway. The second he heard the bat wing notification sound, he knew he’d found her. That, and the smoke swirling in the air was a good indication.

“Henny?”

“Wha-- Firkle? What’s wrong?” It wasn’t usual for him to sneak into the girls’ bathroom when he came to see her. 

“I… I-it started.” He murmured in response, eyes down. Hearing the stall door open, he wiped at his watery eyes, uncaring about the smeared makeup.

“It…?” And then those brown eyes fell to his thighs and how soaked they were, the red seeping through his dark jeans. “Oh my God, Firkle--” Tugging her friend into her chest, she held him close, tutting softly and rubbing his back, “Okay, okay. We’ll figure this out. I’ve got an extra pad in my purse, and… Shit, we might need to just take you home.” 

“N-not my house.” He croaked, the tears finally taking over, spilling down his cheeks as he nestled his face against his friend’s shoulder. “I’ll go anywhere else.”

“Honey, you don’t have clothes at _my_ house. I don’t think you’d fit any of mine.” 

“I-- F-fine.” Now, he wasn’t looking at her, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeves.

Gathering her things, Henrietta made a beeline for the door, Firkle tucked under her arm.

“It’s normal, you know. Sucks, but you aren’t going to die, at least.” She told him, quietly, escorting him out before anyone could see them. “...Shit, I can’t-- I can’t let you get that all over my mom’s car, she’ll be even more insufferably.” Henrietta paused a moment, digging in the trunk to find an old towel her mother kept there for whatever reason. “Sit on this.” 

Taking the towel, he frowned, crossing to the passenger’s side and laying it out on the seat. Sitting down, he drug his knees up onto the seat and hid his face in his hands. Seeing this on the usually confident young kid beside her, Henrietta reached over and pat his knee.

“It’s gonna be okay, Firkle. I won’t tell Michael or Pete.” She added, as if that would make it better, “Just… We’ll clean you up and I’ll let you come rest at my place.” 

Firkle leaned against the door, as he usually did in cars, and gazed out the window. It _hurt_ , and not in the usual way when he bled. No, this was something internal, horribly painful and clawing, like his body was trying to evacuate.

“Fucking organs need to stay the fuck where they are and chill out.” He told her, eyes still welling with tears, “Why does it hurt so fucking much?”

“Because even your body wants to punish you for being female.” Henrietta responded easily, taking a deep pull from her cigarette. Her eyes went wide suddenly and she looked over, shaking her head, “Sorry. Sorry, shit. I didn’t mean--”

“I know.” It hurt, but that wasn’t the worst of it. He sighed, shifting a little and throwing his scrawny legs up on the dashboard. “Just… Let’s get this taken care of fast.”

“Right.” Placing a hand on his knee, she offered him a rare smile, “Just relax. If you need it, I’ve got some aspirin in my purse.”

“Is it going to help?” 

“It’s better than nothing. I could always steal one of my mom’s percocets, if that would help more.” The thought of grabbing his Dilaudid while he was at home hit Firkle hard and he looked away, shrugging.

“Maybe.”

“...Look, I don’t know what you’re going through,” Henrietta sighed, closing her eyes at the stop sign, “But I’m here to help. I know you won’t get it from your mother. So… Look, I can do what I can, but… If you need to talk about other junk, we can. We can do whatever you want. Smoke, maybe we could write or I could set up that easel and you can paint. Or we could lay around in my bed and watch bad horror movies.”

“...Movies sound fun.” Firkle gave a little, pathetic smile, and his purple painted lips quirked back down into a frown as the car moved again and his stomach lurched. “Fuck, I feel like I’m going to vomit.”

“Your parents are fucking psycho. They should have let you take those hormone blockers.” Henrietta had a few choice words for the other’s parents, but she didn’t know that they’d be receptive. They’d probably beat on him more.

“If I were Franny, they would have.” Firkle replied, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the cold glass of the window.

“That may be true. I wish I could get them for you.” She gave a sympathetic look and rubbed his knee again, before moving to the wheel to turn into his parents’ driveway. Cutting the engine and pulling the emergency brake, she opened the door and let herself out. “Anyway, let’s go take care of this, get you some clothes. You’re spending the night tonight, so you should grab Edgar, too.”

“Okay.” It sounded so pathetic, but he hardly cared. He felt like he was dying, and his brain was screaming _this isn’t right_. Internally, he was certain he was going to explode from embarrassment. Up the walk and into the house, he went straight for the stairs to his room. With his parents gone at work, he was able to sneak in and head to the bathroom. Henrietta went to pick out a cute outfit for him, and then a more frumpy one, in case he didn’t want to feel pretty.

Turning on the shower, Firkle pulled his clothes off and stepped inside, surprised to see that Henrietta had joined him in the bathroom with him. When he opened his mouth to protest, hiding his pierced belly button with his shirt, she raised a hand to stop him.

“It’s not weird, don’t make it weird.” She instructed, “I’m going to help you. But it isn’t what it sounds like, okay?” Finally, she moved into the room and closed the door, gesturing for Firkle to scoot over a bit. Pulling the plug to shift the water to the shower head, she took it down off of its holder and began to spray down the other’s skinny thighs, watching the pink water trail down his legs. The redness in his cheeks was obvious, having his best friend seeing him like this made him oddly embarrassed.

“Henny…” He murmured, eyelids half-lidded as he basked in the hot water. Jumping slightly, his eyes popped wide as he felt her hand gently pet the wet ribbons pierced to the tops of his thighs. “Henny!” Now, his voice was a little too shrill, and he sounded panicked.

“Sorry, sorry.” She replied, pulling her hands back and looking up at the other from where she’d crouched, “Just get lost in things like this.” If Firkle had been a real woman, Henrietta probably would have understood Michael’s attraction to the younger goth. Sure, his body was female, but she knew better than to try and force something with someone who wasn’t interested. Henrietta fully supported Firkle’s transition, whenever it finally came to him.

As she helped hose him down, she slowly urged him down into a crouch and directed the spray at his mound, closing her eyes a second before moving it inward a bit more. He squeaked when the water hit his clit, his entire sex flexing and eyelids fluttering. That was too good of a reaction, but Henrietta knew better.

“Shh, it’s okay. If you want to, uh… Do that, I’ll go wait in your room. It’ll feel better for a little bit if you do get off.” Instructions she lived by, normally, sounded so weird to her right now. Maybe it was the disconnect in her brain.

“I-- O-okay.” Firkle closed his eyes, pressing the shower head closer to his hungry sex, a moan on his lips. That felt way too good right now.

Henrietta exited the room, letting Firkle have his moment, all the while she dutifully transferred Edgar to his travel tank and packed a bag for the younger goth. Her mind kept wandering back to that bathroom, but she knew that there was nothing to come from it. Firkle was like her son, anyway, she’d always felt this motherly attraction to him, and she had no right to try anything just because she was lonely. She’d find someone, eventually.

When Firkle finally appeared in his room, a towel wrapped around himself, he tipped his head at the two outfits on the bed.

“What are these for?”

“You can pick which one you want to wear. But you need to wear the panties, anyway.” She shook the pad in her hand as if to give him a better idea of what she needed of him. “We can figure out if you want tampons instead, later. But this will work until we figure it out.”

“Okay…” Nodding a little, Firkle dropped the towel and started with his underwear, pulling them on and taking the pad. With helpful guidance, he got it situated right and pulled his panties up the rest of the way, the sweatpants, his binder and one of Michael’s baggy t-shirts following close behind.

“Anyway, I was thinking about letting you use my parents’ bathroom. They have this like, whirlpool tub and that feels like fucking Nirvana when you’re cramping.” Henrietta was saying, looking over at her friend and smiling a little, “Trust me, you’ll like relaxing in it. Then we can set up movies.”

“I’d rather take your mom’s percocet and watch the movies.” Firkle responded softly, picking up the travel tank while Henrietta grabbed his bag, “I don’t want to move a lot right now.”

“Understandable. Maybe later.” She offered, leading him back down to her car and putting everything into the back. 

Upon arriving, Firkle was ushered up to Henrietta’s room, where he crashed onto the bed and got comfortable in front of her T.V. When the elder goth finally returned, she proffered two pills and a bottle of Powerade, the grape kind. 

“Take these. You might need to eat, too, soon. It’ll help.” But he didn’t want to eat. Still, he knew she was probably right, and reached forward to take the pills. 

“Can we watch Death and Cremation?” He questioned, head tilting a little as he looked up at her, pain evident in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure.” The movie was easy enough to set up, and soon the pair were snuggled up in bed, hiding under some covers. They didn’t make it halfway through before she heard soft breathing beside her, and peering down showed her that Firkle had fallen asleep. That would be the best way to deal with this, she supposed. Kissing his forehead, she settled in for a long night, glad she had Netflix on this T.V.

**Author's Note:**

> I did not expect this to end up being so long. xD But I’m pretty happy with it, regardless. I dunno, I think its cute. I hope you guys enjoyed!


End file.
